Chapter 959

Chapter 959: Interview

Bullet snapped at the first target’s shoulder, he dropped lifelessly and cried. ‘-He’s paralyzed,’ figured Igna, slash after slash – blood bled and gathered – spiraling into a crimson apple. *Crunch,* a force of hundreds dropped, he bit and ate all the while survivors ran for the grated gates, “-OPEN!” they cried, the distant boom of the devil’s footstep amplified, fear grasped the heart and silence – splatter against the gate and outside.

“Here we are,” a nonchalant swing cleaned the dulled blade, ‘-good work,’ he thought, ‘-Orenmir,’ a mist of agony rose from its scabbard – handle clicked, the sword sheathed.

Theon skipped onto the relatively clean courtyard, “-I heard screams,” he said with a maimed finger in hand. Igna frowned, “-oh, my apologies,” he quietly hid the item, “-I like to take a souvenir from my best works. The melt-off was one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

An echoey relief, brought by the sudden shatter of the gate’s mechanism caught their attention, and both turned to a beautifully terrifying lady. Her darkened outfit, reminiscent of vampirism, ambled, her darker gaze rose at the many fa?ades, peering and scanning, locking onto various objects and coming to her conclusion, *whistle,* she nonchalantly kicked a head and continued to the small entourage, “-what happened here?”

“I told you,” yawned Igna, “-taking a fortress on my own is rather simple.” Theon was spotted over the wall, “-Is this him?” he asked holding a facially different personage.

“Yeah,” returned Igna, *Connection to Squad Three,*

*Established,* returned the sister system.

.....

“Majesty?” answered the pilot.

“Castle’s been cleared – make the rounds, eliminate any survivors. We don’t need work of said conquest to reach the others.”

“Understood,” and in the distant night-drawn sky – the hardened fighters tactically swarmed and examined the area. Intel blessed by Central wrote across screens, culminating in simple extermination.

Sathanas and Theon followed him into the dungeon yet again, the foul smell of burnt hair and decomposing parts begot a gag from Sathanas, “-breathe through your nose,” returned Igna, “-you’ll get used to it.”

‘Get used to it?’ her pace slowed a few, keeping at the back of the queue, ‘-does he mean I should get used to this?’ her deep regard swallowed the area, ‘-why should I?’ she narrowed, ‘-treating people as if they were naught but toys to be discarded. Humans are the worse on themselves. If they’re safe from repercussions, most will do unspeakable acts. I’m the daughter of Satan, the level of cruelty shown here has my heart racing. I feel alive,’ a slight grin escaped, ‘-this is awesome...’

The injured bloke was chained by the wrist and left to dangle. The bullet wound calcified per Igna’s spell, rather than heal, he burnt it shut and sat, “-wake him,” cigar lit, “-Theon, consider this an interview.”

“An interview?” he cupped his hands invitingly and threw icy cold water, *GASP,* cried the half-naked man, “-where am I?” he cringed and squinted at his shoulder.

“Dungeon,” returned Theon.

“There’s the lord inquisitor,” said Igna, “-napping on the torture table.”

“Ignore the burnt remains,” added Theon, “-tis the attendant of lady Goldberg. Anyhow, shall we proceed?”

“Interrogation?” narrowed the man, “-I won’t speak. We of the Sadian nation don’t yield information to the enemy. I won’t speak nor will I betray, my faith is steadfast.”

“Right, the more you speak,” Theon brazenly impaled using a hot-iron spike – it touched bone and returned – a haunting scream rattled the cage. Lack of structure drowned most of the sound, a little piece of trivia Sathanas and Igna realized simultaneously. After the hot spike, Theon squatted and held the man’s feet, giving a nod as if a jeweler taking an interest in precious metal. A blank, focused expression moved to the back, locked onto a chest, and pulled – the latter was rested behind the prisoner’s heels. Sweat, anger, and pain sent tremors and shakes – a fact Theon shrugged.

“Where are the questions?”

“What questions?” returned Igna, “-were you not the one who announced thy faith? I’m not one to ask for thee to forsake thy beliefs.”

“I did... b-but?”

“Adrenaline’s a warm drug,” said Igna, “-think whilst possible. After all, once the table turns and the wonder drug is drained – the tsunamic pain shall crash thy psyche into a shell of its former being. Before that comes, you’ll have to contend with Theon,” the petrified captive looked below – unable to move or think.

‘I’ll resist the torture; I won’t back down.’

“Heads up,” said an energetic spurt. Hammer against nail, the man cried – Theon leisurely nailed the feet against the box. He missed a few times, smashing against the feet – little cracks bellowed. Chills ran down Sathanas’ spine.

‘Act of cruelty?’ she lowered her gaze to Igna, ‘-no, this goes beyond cruelty, I can’t describe it – look at them, they relish the idea, each painful gasp brings satisfaction. Are my brothers truly associated with a man like him?’

“Master,” Theon’s focus broke, “-I thought of an idea. Keep our guest entertained, I’ll visit the kitchen.”

A green light glowed, “-there,” said Igna, “-the wounds are healed. No risk of dying from infection.”

“Evil,” he gasped, “-you people are evil incarnate.”

“What do you expect?” narrowed Igna, “-aside from king, I’m known as the Devil,” he puffed, “-a title granted after many exploits,” finger rose, *Blood-Arts: Crimson Threads,* crystal colored lines impaled the captive’s brain – consciousness faded into a blank stare, ‘-I get it,’ the threads shattered, ‘-I understand.’ In a brief few seconds – key memories transferred from one to the other.

“We mustn’t allow Dorchester to fall.”

“How can we even help them?”

“Launch an attack. The pope’s troupes are resilient. I know someone who’ll help.”

“And?”

“The pope’s dog, Nicola Vonhem.”

“What can he do?”

“Not much on his own. However, send this.”

“I understand, we’ll take back Dorchester. Thirty thousand men strong is sufficient, isn’t that right, Aaren?”

“As the masters say, I shall obey,” he bowed.

“Go on, save the prisoners and stage a coup, the rest will be ours to command. Make certain thee die before yielding answers. Bite thy tongue.”

Theon entered the room, and Igna’s vision swept under the constant evaluation of possible outcomes. “-a potato peeler?”

“Yeah,” he giggled, “-I’ve always wondered how’d it fair against human skin,” the fearsome figure knelt and laid the sharpened tool over the man’s foot, “-grit or something,” he flicked the nail, a thunderous wave of pain shot upward, *AHHH,* he bit his lips and coughed, “-insane, you’re INSANE!”

“Am I?” he pressed and pulled, the metallic blade effortlessly took part of the skin, “-It’s like peeling a potato,” he commented, “-except, the potato is alive and a little hard to grip. Good thing I had the blade changed,” he winked and continued – the screams but intensified, reaching a point where one could distinguish how much it pained using the echo and sound.

Theon’s method grew merciless. Igna’s thoughts wandered, ‘-Aaren, poor chap being cared for by Theon was instructed to lead the rebellion. He must have been accompanied – the ‘masters’ mentioned a device or alluded to one. Nicola’s a traitor, gathered much with my gamble earlier. There might be more – keep that speculation aside and focus on what I learned. The rebellion’s not random, it was staged, if tis true – they’re led by Sadia or a proxy. Would be bad if the scheme climbed its way to their kingdom – the blatant infraction of Wracia and Hidros’ treaty might send ripples. Wait,” he blinked, ‘-this could be a good thing – I’ve always imagined Wracia as a united empire. Elendor’s obviously not under Old Cray’s rule, tis being led by a shadow king – and I’d bet it’s Wracia’s new sword – Sadia. We could send a messenger and relay our findings – I doubt the palace officials would care. The scale’s a problem. Aaren’s not worth the hassle for them, they’d ignore the infraction and blame the matter on a revolutionist party. Always a loophole to divert blame – I’d do the same. Where does it leave us?’ he puffed and squashed the cigar, ‘-here,’ refocused on the woeful captive, ‘-rather not consider battle. Wiser to wait and watch, who knows, there could be a camaraderie to be born from Vigrant Archipelago. Wishful thinking, we know who’s leading the war – objective, unknown. Tis enough – let them do as they please.’

“Majesty.”

“Theon.”

“He might die if I continue, what are your orders?”

“Might die?” he paused, “-Aaren, tell me, how many people came with you?”

“Four,” he shakily exhaled, “-and they’re stronger and wiser than me. Don’t underestimate the Sadian people, we will have our revenge and we will-” just as a mighty speech was to unleash, Theon stood and shoved a knife up Aaren’s jaw, nailing his tongue against the palate.

Theon exclaimed, “-shit, I didn’t mean.”

The king rose, “-Theon.”

“My heartfelt apology, majesty, I didn’t mean to harm him badly.”

“Aaren yet lives, Theon,” he said reassuringly, “-as promised, we shall enter a slave contract.”

Theon knelt, warmth carried each exhale, “-I’m blessed, thank you, my lord.” A blood seal burnt on Theon’s neck, “-with this, my loyalty is assured. I won’t betray nor act against my master and his belongings. My past reputation is one not to be trusted, nor should I expect salvation or forgiveness. My only want is to be needed,” he knelt, “-and so, majesty, to further thy quest into the mortal realm, I freely relinquish my body and soul.”

“Sten Parcyvell, past is as described, concluded event. Today we stand as Theon and Igna.”

“I understand, majesty, I understand,” he kissed Igna’s palm and breathed a sigh of relief. Day broke outside – the sound of engine ruptured the solemn silence, “-Theon, Sathanas, go welcome our guests,” he ordered, “-reinforcement’s here.” The duo exchanged glances and spoke – the budding start of a great friendship. Igna stopped at the first cage and turned – a naked Katherine Goldberg was tied to a metallic plate, her breaths dim and signs of life barely present. The lock clicked, he entered, ‘-typical signs of torture,’ he examined, ‘-her face was left untouched. Scratch marks,’ a look over the table showed broken syringes, ‘-ah, narcotics. Such mundane hospitality.’

“-H-help m-me,” she begged, dressed in skin and bones. He grabbed her cheeks and pressed, “-who am I?”

“...”

“TELL ME, WHO AM I?”

“...”

“WHO AM I?”

“Lizzie...” escaped her drugged stupor, “-Lizzie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry... I wish, I wish, help, salvation, w-w-w-.’

An overwhelming deluge wiped Igna’s mind, ‘-she remembers, she does.’

“Katharine,” he whispered, “-would you like to make a deal with the devil?”

“A-anything t-to s-shake this f-feeling...”

“Sign here,” a symbol rose above her face, “-place thy hands within the circle,” her palms laid flat, *Mantia – Book of Restoration, Honzela, fifth passage, broken art be fixed, fixed art be broken, eternal cycle; creation and destruction, the levy for reality changes prospective, watcher watches, creator creates, destroyer destroys, and restorer restores, Hicht.*

*Cough,* ‘-my head,’ vision returned, “-HELP,” she shot upright, “-where am I?”

“A dungeon,” returned Igna, “-you were captured. A fitting fate to one belonging to a traitorous family. Tell me, Katherine, do you remember our agreement?”

“A deal,” an ethereal pair of hands gripped her heart from within and she choked, “-m-m-m-my h-h-h-heart.”

“Yes, remember the feeling, tis ultimate dread. You belong to me, Katherine, body, and soul for I rescued thee from the pits of hell.”

“King Igna,” she gulped, “-am I to become your concubine?”

“No,” he returned, “-nothing complex, the Goldberg dynasty is thine to rule after all. Similar to when Queen Gallienne had your lady mother as a slave. You’ll become mine,” he winked, “-besides, when time is right, I shall come knocking.” Clothes fluttered on her lap, “-get dressed, reinforcement’s here, we’re going home.” The capture of Frostrest castle – following their return, Rosespire castle’s dungeon took on a new life. Theon’s employment as dungeon master came with many, many advantages. For one, prisoners of war unwilling to speak confessed to all, it ranged to criminal trials as well. The infamy of Rosespire’s dungeon master would but grow as time passed – death seemed salvation compared to capture; such was the mindset of many touched by Theon’s hand.